Let's Pick Up, Pick Up
by inida relaques
Summary: **Work in progress, ALMOST FINISHED, all feedback welcomed/begged for!** Sam and Freddie fall back into each others' lives, but what could happen with the distance between them? Very lemony /technically lime?/


_AN: I read a lot of Seddie fanfiction (along with a little Spam and whatever scant pieces of Fencer I can find), but this is my first attempt at writing one myself. It's very, very, very, very lemony. You have been warned! _

_All reviews, suggestions, etc. are welcome. Please tell me if you don't like it! I want to know! Of course, you can also tell me if you like it. That's nice too._

What he saw said nothing. Her face was the only thing he could process, not that he hadn't seen all the text around it before.

"Is that her?"

"Uh, yeah. That's her." Strained words from a closing throat. Every syllable punctuated the nausea in the pit of his stomach, working its way up his chest, lapping acidly at his heart. He tried in vain to swallow it, the sides of his throat rubbing roughly together.

It was ridiculous how much of an effect her unexpected face had on his nerves, absolutely ridiculous. But then again, his body was never much for reacting properly.

"Click on her profile!" His friend chomped at the bit to peer into the life of someone he had only of heard in passing, and in drunken stories, and in late night confessionals. She was mythical, the stuff of legends. If Freddie had said "she" in the last year, he could assume it was her.

You know.

Her.

Click.

"Aw, she's single," he said after the page loaded, "You know what that means!"

A second passed. Another.

Freddie's eyes scanned the page, taking it in. She had unblocked him a few months ago - he had noticed after going through old messages still lingering in his inbox - but, with her, that meant literally nothing. Her actions rarely had a definite meaning. Unblocking him could mean one of a million varied things that did not concern him. But a friend request?

What the fuck did that mean?

"Should I?"

Their eyes locked, Gibby contorting his face into a shit eating grin.

"Awwwwwwww, yeeeeeah."

Freddie mirrored him and clicked "Accept".

•••••••••

It all happened so fast. Polite conversation. Apologies.

Finally, she had ditched him and, finally, she was getting her life back together. And she was sorry; she didn't know what she was thinking being with him for so long. And wasn't he so stupid trying to control who she could be friends with, even if he had every reason to be just a little concerned about Freddie?

How's college? Where are you living? I moved out too. No, don't ask how I'm paying for it.

Polite conversation. Apologies.

And of course, they both still had webcams, although he had long since upgraded from their matching models and she must have too. She looked so much crisper. That must be it. Surely, his eyes weren't that entranced.

Because, fuck, she was still really hot.

And then another friend from the past appeared in a rectangle next to her, bouncing and smiling and giggling, gushing how much she had missed him. Yeah, he had really missed Carly too.

"I'm just so happy we can all be friends again!"

"Yeah, now that Sam isn't with that nub."

Peals of laughter. Because really, had they actually used that word? Because really, were any of them fooled into thinking they had stopped talking because of Sam's boyfriend?

No, it couldn't be because, for one ethereal week, strange enough to feel more dreamt as every day separated him from then, Sam had left that faggot and run into his arms. And wrapped her lips around him. And squeezed her thighs around his. And then made a distant phone call that she was leaving and that she didn't want to hear from little Freddie again.

FOR SOME FUCKING REASON THAT WAS NEVER REALLY MADE CLEAR TO HIM.

But that was a year and a lifetime ago.

Wasn't it?

"Oh my god, I need to put you back in my phone, Freddie! What's your number now?" Carly smiled eagerly at him, primed for texts with smiley faces, hearts, and encouragement.

He could've sworn that he saw Sam's eyes light up.

•••••••••

Carly was doing well and living with roommates she loved in a nice apartment close to campus. She had made friends and she liked her classes and she-

A text? His phone vibrated in his hoodie's pocket. A sideward glance told him it was not anyone he knew. He tapped the screen, nodding diligently at Carly's winding update into her life's particulars.

Oh shit.

Neck to knees. Ass popped out. The pleats of a school girl's plaid skirt flaring up to reveal her perfect curves. Her arm twisted to catch her image in the phone's camera. Those fucking golden curls falling down her back.

He blinked and looked at her moving image. She smiled.

Nod, nod, oh that's great, Carly. Yeah? Really? Cool…

_Holy shit, you're still hot._ Send.

A minute passed. Two minutes. Five. Had she not gotten it? He searched her face for clues, but she gave nothing away. Her eyes never left the screen.

Check your goddamn phone, woman!

He was reaching his breaking point on keeping up friendly conversation when his phone vibrated again. In an instant, it was out of his pocket and revealing another picture, this time from the front. His head spun. Carly's words were distracting white noise. He could only look at her, with her knowing grin, silently daring him to say something.

Was she trying to kill him?

He stared daggers into her pixelated pupils. Nothing.

Oh, yeah, she was trying to kill him.

•••••••••

"It looks like we're the only ones here."

His heart raced at her words. Carly had finally gone to bed and they were left alone: just the two of them, hundreds of miles away from each other.

"Yeah, thanks for that observation. I wouldn't have noticed otherwise," he said, his lips pursing together in his rough imitation of her flirtation. It was shameful how much his personality clung to hers, how much of what she had given him he had fit into himself. Well, she had been so kind as to fit him inside her...

"So, did you like the pictures?"

"Ooooooh, yeah. Oh yeah. Yeah." He let out as much of a laugh as his dry throat could muster. "Yeah."

They played with each other's eyes. At his eyes, now up to the camera, down to his eyes, up to the camera. He melted every single goddamn time she peered straight at the lens, her eyes lining with his only when she couldn't see him. The gravity of that did somersaults around remembering her staring up at him, his cock halfway down her throat.

"Do you wanna see it?" She broke the silence. Of course, she did.

"Uh, see what?"

"The outfit?"

Did he- Did he want to see- What kind of fucking question was that? "Yeah...?"

She laughed. Deep, rich, boastful laughter. "Okay, hold on." She sighed like she hadn't suggested it. She had a way of doing that, making you think her ideas were your fault.

Second, minutes, hours, whatever it was, passed with her off-screen. Then the image moved as if by magic to the floor, to the wall, blurry and pixelated, settling on another wall. Its horizon line was marked by the edge of her covers. He heard the rustling of her headset situating and the static he knew so well to be her breath.

"Wha- Is your webcam on a laptop?"

"Yeah, obviously. Way to figure that out."

"You're still off screen." There was desperation in his voice.

Her form slipped in from the side of his view. Facing away from the camera, she balanced herself on top of her bed, the camera level with her ass, barely covered by the skirt he had burned into his mind over the course of the last few hours. Her knees bent into a facsimile of her now infamous pose.

"You like?"

"Oh fuck, Sam, yeah." He felt his cock throb and, for what felt like the millionth time that night, the warmth of another few drops of pre-cum pool in his boxers.

In an instant, she flipped around. Her breasts were shoved in the camera, barely concealed by the oh-so-thin white top. Red lace peaked out, tracing her milky white curves down to the soft shadow of her cleavage. She squeezed them together with a smirk.

"Sam," he whined.

"Mmhm?" Lazily, she traced the swell of her chest up and down. Back and forth.

"Sam, you've been teasing me all night."

"Yeah…?" she said, breathily, consumed with herself.

"Come on, take it off…"

"You first."

He popped up on his knees, bringing his webcam to his waist.

Unbutton. Unzip.

That felt so much better. For the first time that night, he let his hand grasp his uncomfortably hard erection. He was painfully aroused. He could barely hear her gasp with the blood rushing through his ears.

"Freddie… oh wow."

"Hm?"

"You're dripping."

He looked down and saw the impetus of her inhale plastered to his powder blue boxers, now navy in an expanding circle around where his impatient head waited.

"See what you do to me, Sam?" He looked down at the screen. She was the one entranced now, blue eyes plastered to the screen, jaw slack. "That could be yours, you know. You wanna lick that up?" The confidence in his words had little more than memories he hoped were still real behind them.

She licked her lips desperately, moaning in agreement. Thank god she hadn't just laughed.

Tenderly, he pulled the remainder of his sheath down, revealing what he could only hope she was waiting for. Red, angry, thick, and throbbing hard. "Remember him?" His head caught the light overhead and glistened, as another drop pooled, thin, milky, and sweet. Her eyes traced the drop as it flowed down his shaft. She inhaled sharply again.

"Freddie, like I could forget that cock."

He trailed his finger up and down the underside of his shaft to keep from going crazy. "He missed you."

"Mm, momma missed him too." She paused for a moment, seeming content to watch him wait. "Rub him a little for me?" Oh, what an innocent request, but it hardly seemed fair.

"Don't I get anything first?" He wrapped his hand around his shaft and gave it a gentle, demonstrative tug. "This is a little one sided."

Wordlessly, she released her body from its restraints. Ever so slowly, painfully even, her top melted away. Another teasing squeeze between her palms and, arguably, his favorite part of her entrancing body perked up in the cold of the air around her: smooth skin curving up into her pink nipples. Her lips, the only part of her face still visible off the edge of his too small view into her room, curled up as she instinctively rolled her nipples between the tips of her fingers, oh, just how he liked it. Freddie felt every vein in his cock pulse.

Whatever control he had maintained over the situation left as her clothes did, as he found himself stroking himself before he was aware of his hand moving. It was silly at this point to feign anything but absolute adoration of her. And of course, now there was no way his cock would let him stop.

"Oh fuck," escaped from her mouth, as one hand disappeared off screen, "Fredward, the things you do to me."

He winced at his full name and the way it made his stomach churn, his sweat turn cold, his blood shoot from his loins to his cheeks. And of course, she noticed, as her lips rolled down into a smirk.

"Aw, still don't like that?"

"Shut up and move the camera down."

She shot him a look, straight into the camera, which he associated with sharp pain, but it vanished off the top of the frame as the angle changed to expose her hand clasped between her legs.

"Oh come on, Sam, lemme see," his hand as feverish as his head, his vision swirling into golden streaks through peach.

Her hand shot towards the camera, disappearing at the last moment, and the world around her shook until it focused on her whole body. She had returned to her smirk. "See what?"

"Fuck, don't make me say it."

"But I don't know what you wanna see." The hand she was not writhing on tapped against her chin, in a ridiculous display of false innocence.

He let out a pained moan. "Come on, lemme see your pussy."

"My what?" Exaggerated looks of shock and disgust.

"That cunt you've been mashing your fingers in, you stupid whore."

She curled her lip up the way she did before she threw a punch. "I'm the stupid whore, huh?" Her fingers peeled away to a darker pink, glistening like the tip of his cock. "You're the one who's been grabbing yourself for the last fifteen minutes."

"What are you doing then!" He gestured emptily towards where her fingers disappeared and reappeared in rhythm on his screen.

"Well, I've only been grabbing myself for the last five."

"Goddammit, Sam."

Silence fell between swallowed moans and wet squishes of skin and fluid while he desperately suppressed his body's urgency for more. For the moment, he would have to settle for the glass and miles between them, but his cock was stupid and couldn't be content with anything but being jammed inside her.

"You sound like you're in pain," her voice distantly echoed, interrupting his stream of consciousness. He couldn't help but notice how her voice caught right when her last knuckle curled itself inside her. Fuck, he was close.

"I do?"

"Yeah, you're moaning like," intake of breath, as that fucking stupid knuckle disappeared again, "I've just smacked you around."

"'Cause you're hurting me; fuck, I wanna bury myself inside you so badly." He paused his stroking and gripped his shaft for emphasis, realizing that his teeth had bit into his lip with no direction from him.

"Oh, Freddie," was her response, muddled with moans. She shifted her weight forward and impaled herself on her hand. "You have no idea how much I miss the way your cock feels inside me, how much I've," her voice catching again, "needed you." She twisted around on her hand as her words disappeared into pouty squeaks. "Dammit, I'm so close. Come on, I wanna see you cum first."

He heard himself dryly laugh somewhere in the distance, as he gripped the base of his shaft as hard as he could, a last ditch effort not to blow just at those words. "No, no, no, you've been getting what you want all night. You're gonna cum for me."

[almost finished...]


End file.
